


Captain Yamaguchi

by palmsandsunshine



Series: Captain Squad [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Paparazzi, Press and Tabloids, Yamaguchi Tadashi Protection Squad, tsukki boutta kill a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23827042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmsandsunshine/pseuds/palmsandsunshine
Summary: “Thank you, Number One, but I think we’ve heard enough from you. I want to hear from therealplayers.”The stiltedbut I’m the Captain of Karasunodied on Yamaguchi’s tongue. Belatedly, he realized Tsukki was trying to shove past his shoulder, but, somehow, Hinata was using all of his strength to hold him back. Kageyama, the only one on the team whom Yamaguchi never expected to get involved, opened his mouth.“Yamaguchi Tadashi is the proud Captain of the Karasuno High School Volleyball team. Anything he has to say is what the team has to say. He speaks forallof us.”or in which Kageyama, having played as the starting setter for the Under-19 Japan Volleyball League, also received press training to deal with his rising popularity. Apparently, it has uses outside of the Youth World Championships.
Series: Captain Squad [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716796
Comments: 11
Kudos: 289





	Captain Yamaguchi

Yamaguchi knew the moment the third years graduated and the new first years came in that he wasn’t likely to be a regular. Ever. Tsukki, and Hinata filled the middle-blocker positions for the team. And with the new first-years came a new player with a keen, but undeveloped, sense for the ball like Hinata, and a height to rival Tsukki. 

His name was Hanai, and the coach subbed him in on the rare occasions Hinata or Tsukki weren’t performing up-to-par. Like, the one random time Hinata was too distracted by a failed test grade that he kept tripping during a practice match. Or the time a lens in Tsukki’s glasses broke during a tournament game and he had to run to the team’s collective stash on the other side of the stadium. Yamaguchi was then third-in-line behind Hanai and Narita. (And Hanai wasn’t even a middle-blocker! He was a wing-spiker, but apparently his blocking was even better than Yamaguchi’s. Yamaguchi tried not to let it sting too much.)

And Yamaguchi’s spikes weren’t powerful enough to compete with the incoming freshmen, nor were they as precise as Tanaka’s cut shot or Hinata’s wipe. He, of course, wouldn’t be able to become libero or setter with monsters like Nishinoya and Kageyama on the team.

He had some hope when Ennoshita’s class was preparing to graduate, and when the near-third-years voted him Team Captain for the upcoming year, he thought it would give him an opportunity to be a regular. He’d polished up his defensive skills to hopefully take over the opposite position. Like Ennoshita and Daichi. The rock of the team. The defense specialist.

But with the new set of first-years came a libero from Chidoriyama, along with his best friend, a wing-spiker (who just so happened to be _completely_ overpowered and good at defense because _why not_ ). Higuchi and Harada, respectively. The two became regulars immediately, to replace Nishinoya and Ennoshita, and Hanai worked on his precision with a cut-shot that could rival Tanaka’s. 

So the lineup was set for Yamaguchi’s third year. The middle-blockers were Hinata and Tsukishima, with Yamguchi as first sub. The wing-spikers were Harada, Hanai, and a muscular first-year named Umehara with a back-attack almost as powerful as Asahi’s. Kageyama was the setter—and a first-year year took over on the random days Kageyama was absent for his Under-19 Japan Volleyball League training—but otherwise, he remained a regular all three years of high school. Higuchi, a direct disciple of Nishinoya in both his first year of junior high and first year of senior high, filled in the large defensive hole that Nishinoya left when he graduated. Yamaguchi remained the primary pinch-server, although there was a first-year with a scary-powerful serve like Oikawa’s. But his precision wasn’t quite there yet, so Yamaguchi kept his spot.

But Yamaguchi felt so _unfulfilled_. Daichi was the rock of the team on the court. When he left, Ennoshita filled his role. And as the next Team Captain, Yamguchi felt it was his responsibility to do the same. He worked hours after practice in his second year, sometimes even staying after Kageyama and Hinata had given up.

But Harada was just too good at defense. And Yamaguchi couldn’t keep up.

 _It’s alright_ , he told himself, _there are other ways to support the team_.

He read entire psychology textbooks in his—albeit, rare—free time. He listened to podcasts about leadership. He attended classes at the local college. He looked up public speaking tips, since Karasuno—steadily growing in popularity at the national tournaments, thanks to their constant appearances, strong offense, Kageyama’s position on the Under-19 League, and high-placing average—was beginning to get more attention from local, national, and even _international_ press.

There was even once instance that a reporter for an American sports blog came up to Yamaguchi after the National Inter-High preliminaries to ask them a question. In _English_. Sure, Yamaguchi was in the advanced classes at Karasuno, but English was his worst subject. Yamaguchi wants to cringe just thinking about it.

Thankfully, Tsukishima, completely fluent in English thanks to his British-born mother and exchange-student brother, took over for the team.

The first Inter-High for Yamaguchi’s third-year was a lot to deal with. Kageyama had a lot of trouble getting away from the press, because of his status and the fact that he was the Vice-Captain (and on-court Captain) of Karasuno, which consistently placed high at Nationals, except for one-of-two Inter-Highs during their second year when Dateko managed to snatch the win at the Miyagi Prefectural Finals. Adding onto the pressure from the press, Yamaguchi also had to deal with keeping the team together while navigating through the crowds, through the maze-like stadium, and screaming over the hundreds of fangirls that had taken a liking to Kageyama, Tsukki, and, surprisingly, Hinata.

But Spring Inter-High was even _more_ intense.

With Kageyama finally graduating and moving onto the National Team, the upcoming Olympics with Kageyama almost _guaranteed_ a spot on the team, and the _bronze medal_ Karasuno somehow managed to steal from Nekoma after a minus-tempo back-attack Hinata pulled from his ass last-second, Karasuno was positively _swarmed_ with reporters after the ceremony.

With Yamaguchi at the front, the other third-years just behind him, their Coach and Advisor off to the side, the rest of the team at the very back, Yamaguchi answered all the questions. 

Yamaguchi asked his teammates before Spring Inter-High if they were okay with him answering most, if not, all, of the questions asked during interviews to speed things up and to place more focus on _Karasuno_ as a team, not just their star players.

“What do you have to say about your third-place? Are you disappointed about your finish?” A reporter asked. He was out-of-turn, but Yamaguchi wisely chose not to comment on his rudeness.

“Unfortunately, we were not strong enough to win against Inarizaki this year. But we managed to beat Nekoma for the third-place. I’m wholy proud of what we accomplished this year,” Yamaguchi answered, hoping his wavering voice wasn’t discernable in the reporter’s mic. “This may be the last high school tournament for us third years, but I hope our underclassmen leave the building today with a sense of pride in what they’ve managed to do.”

“Who on the team do you think is most responsible for this week’s high-finish?”

Yamaguchi ruffled his eyebrows, but wisely smoothened them out. He was obviously fishing for praise for Kageyama or Hanai, the star players of the Nekoma v Karasuno game. Most likely the Kageyama option. Once Yamaguchi brought him up, it would give them free reign to continue to ask questions about the setter. And Yamaguchi wouldn’t be able to direct the questions to another teammate without looking jealous or annoyed. It was a trap.

But Yamaguchi wouldn’t let it happen in the first place. Karasuno was a _team_. He could feel the team—mostly Kageyama and Tsukki, who understood the implication—bristle behind him. He couldn’t let them get out-of-hand, lest they cause a scene and ruin Karasuno’s favorable image in the media.

“I think everyone on the team contributed equally to our success,” he said, hoping his words appeased both his teammates and the reporters. “The players on the court obviously do the most work, but they couldn’t do it without the support of our fans, our advisors, our managers, and the teammates on the bench. Karasuno wouldn’t be able to do anything with a _single_ player on the court. It takes everyone to reach for victory.”

“Of the third years on the team, who is considering going professional?”

 _Another ploy to put Kageyama in the spotlight_. _Nice try_.

“All the third-years except for me are aiming for professional leagues,” Yamaguchi answered confidently, turning his head in the direction the question came from. “I’ve decided to continue my studies and go to University.”

“What was the most stressful moment of the match against Nekoma?”

Yamaguchi had to suppress a laugh, disguising it carefully under a cough. He recalled the way Kageyama’s face looked when Lev pulled off a back-attack behind Inuoka. None of them had seen it coming, since Lev tended to prefer playing close to the net. But Kageyama had looked so _disdained_.

“I think that would be the second set’s match point, when Nekoma’s Lev scored with a back-attack down the pipe. We’ve known Lev since our first year—”

“Thank you, Number One,” the same reporter cut in, “but I think we’ve heard enough from you. I want to hear from the _real_ players.”

Yamaguchi was stunned speechless.

In his _year_ of being a Captain, bringing the team to nationals, and dealing with the press, he had never been so shocked. (That’s counting the time a Tsukishima fangirl tossed her bra at them before the opening ceremony, landing perfectly atop Tsukki’s head.)

 _But… I’m the Captain. I_ am _a real player_ , he wanted to say. But the stilted reply died on his tongue. Belatedly, he realized Tsukki was trying to shove past his shoulder to strangle the reporter, but, somehow, Hinata was using all of his strength to hold him back. The other players from Karasuno—and even some of the reporters themselves—seemed to gape at the gall of the man who asked the question.

“I…” he began, but his words dried before they could fling themselves at the reporter, like that one fangirl’s bra. Except Yamaguchi wished it would wring around the reporter’s neck. Or his own. Yamaguchi just wanted to leave.

He was so embarrassed for being caught off-guard. He lost face in front of the team he was supposed to _lead_ as their _Captain_. He was exposed for not pulling his weight in the court despite being chosen the _leader_. Yamaguchi didn’t know what to do. Sure, he had gained more confidence after being on the team so long, but right now, he just hoped he wouldn’t burst into tears.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi is the proud Captain of the Karasuno High School Volleyball Team,” a voice spoke up.

Yamaguchi turned his head to his right, where Kageyama had stepped forward. As the Vice-Captain, he shared some of the responsibilities with Yamaguchi, but left most of the talking to the other third-years. In fact, Kageyama was the _last_ person Yamaguchi ever expected to speak up during a team press conference, let alone _defend_ his teammate.

Kageyama’s face was hardened. Stony. His eyes were the only things that betrayed his anger as he glared down the reporter who dared insult his Captain. 

“Anything _he_ has to say is what the _team_ has to say,” Kageyama continues, addressing the entire crowd of reporters now. His tone of voice left no room for input. The media was silent. Yamaguchi felt a little lightheaded at the uncharacteristic display of eloquence from Kageyama. “He speaks for all of us. Thank you for your time, but we have a long drive home.”

Belatedly, as Kageyama led the team through the crowd, Yamaguchi realized this must be the result of the Under-19 League’s training. All of the players received media training in order to help them sound a bit more professional when asking questions. Yamaguchi vaguely recalls Kageyama complaining because Miya Atsumu—another setter whom he played with in the League—didn’t need to take the classes, as his personality was already outgoing and his presence charmed the cameras. 

Tsukishima stood directly behind Yamaguchi as they walked through the stadium, becoming the steady presence Yamaguchi so desperately needed. Kageyama was still at the helm, his tall stature, deadly eyes, and social status within the community causing the crowd to part like the Red Sea before Moses. 

“You okay?” Tsukki finally murmurs once Yamaguchi feels calm enough.

“I think so,” he mumbles back. 

Hinata is suddenly at Yamaguchi’s side, his smile overwhelming and contagious even as he jams an elbow into Yamaguchi’s ribs. “You brought us to third place, Captain! I was hoping we’d finally win our third year, but a bronze medal is great, too!”

Yamaguchi smiles back, ducking his chin to look at the bronze medal that sits in the center of his chest, held there by a thick red ribbon. It’s shiny and heavy and feels almost as great as gold. Yamaguchi is _so_ proud of his teammates. So, so proud.

“Captain!” Kageyama calls over his shoulder just as they arrived at the exit doors. Inside the stadium, in the inner hallways, there were less crowds. It was mostly other players looking for autographs and the sports reporters that had backstage passes. But outside, where the busses were parked, _everyone_ was there. All the other news stations that couldn’t get passes. All the crazy fangirls and sports fanatics. 

Kageyama gestured vaguely to the open doors, where the world awaited. “We’ll follow you to the bus.”

Yamaguchi smiled at his Vice-Captain. 

Maybe he wasn’t always on the court. But Yamaguchi was proud to support his team wherever he was. Be it on the bench, behind the line as a pinch server, or even on the extremely rare occasions he played as a middle-blocker. He would always be their Captain. 

Yamaguchi took his place at the front, leading his team onwards.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to pair this with an Ennoshita one but I couldn't wait to post,,, I'll see how long it takes me to finish lol


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